


Praise Him

by Sjukdom



Series: Penance & Pain [4]
Category: Gotham (TV), Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: BDSM, Boot Worship, Foot Fetish, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim crawled forward and pushed the door open with his forehead, dragged forward into Oswald's room by the leash, woven from need and guilt. Two words were chanted by a fleshless voice in his mind: praise him, praise him, praise him, praisehimpraisehimpleasehimpraise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praise Him

“Praise him”, said Julian, when they turned round the corner to the house they needed. He said it aloud, loud enough for other people to hear. A couple of strangers glanced at them curiously and Jim felt himself blushing, a shameful shade of pink coloring his cheeks. He was still able to redden, still worried what others would think about him, was still embarrassed at Julian's comments. Even if they were as innocent as this one was. Julian had said much dirtier things. He looked around and raised his eyebrows, dissatisfied with Jim's hesitation. 

All of this proved that they still had a plenty of work to do.

Jim joined him up hastily, still trying to suppress the embarrassment.

“Why don't you take off your scarf?” asked him Julian with his usual relaxed smile. “I think you're hot.”

Jim touched the scarf reflectively as if Julian could rip it off. Obviously, he could and then everyone around would see the collar around his neck, a choke one with tiny silver spikes on the inside, big and heavy, with a thick ring at the front. It was a hint for Jim to stop messing around and concentrate on his task. Jim felt spikes biting into his neck all by themselves under Julian's gaze and followed him silently to the door of the house, old and covered with flakes of once bright paint that was peeling off right before their eyes.

Julian closed the door behind them, killing the hum of the streets and that little of the daylight that slid after them inside. Here it was dark and quiet, smells of fuel and rotten garbage in the bins were replaced with old dust's and dirty carpets' odor. Jim blinked to adjust his vision to the dark. When he opened his eyes again, Julian's face was right next to him, turned by the shadows into a pale skull with two glass balls in its eye-sockets. Jim resisted the urge to back away.

“Do you know your task?” asked Julian, breathing into Jim's face. His breath felt as dead and dry as the air in the house.

“I do”, answered Jim and felt that he was sweating heavily. He prayed that Julian didn't notice it in the gloom, because he always got pissed at Jim's inability to control his body even in the easiest ways. Jim feared that dust, disturbed by their steps and floating around them would stick to the wet skin on his face and neck, revealing his weakness. His filthiness.

“And you're still standing?” Julian spat out. He tugged harshly at Jim's scarf, threw it away and grabbed the ring on his collar. Spikes stuck into Jim's neck and he yelped at the sensation. Julian pulled him down until Jim was kneeling, face heating up again with lack of air. Julian waited a few moments before letting him go and poked him in the ribs, ordering him on his fours.

“Don't imagine it will be the meeting of two equals. You will be good and obedient and will show your repentance in such a way that he can believe you”, he instructed Jim, snapping his fingers to the silent rhythm. Jim nodded, looking around out of the corner of his eye. The house must have been a hotel once. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark and he could recognize old-fashioned mirrors, white-sheet ghosts of upturned tables and a wide staircase in front of him. He nearly missed the moment, when Julian made a sign for him to go up the stairs.

Crawling up the stairs seemed endless. The collar's spikes bit Jim's throat with each move and his knees hurt from sharp edges of the steps. If he slowed down, Julian sniffed behind him and it was enough for Jim to shiver and increase his speed. When they reached the top, Jim was breathless. Ahead was a long passage with lots of doors on the each side of it. Julian walked to the one of them, hands in his pockets and knocked. Jim slumped next to him, panting, his lungs corroded by the ghastly gas that filled the house instead of oxygen. A voice from the inside told them to enter. Jim felt his chest tightening as if there was another choke collar around it. He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness and noticed the number on the door. One. One. Three. 

He was sorry he couldn't bend himself even lower. He wanted to crawl into the room on his belly.

Julian heard the change in his breathing and chuckled in approval.

“That's the spirit. Now go and please my brother”, said he and suddenly got down to Jim to whisper into his ear. “Praise him. Worship him. Pray to him like others pray to God, when they have sinned.”

Jim crawled forward on his own and pushed the door open with his forehead. He would have done everything without these painful hints, but they helped him to block all other thoughts that could distract him. Julian smacked his buttocks with his palm and wished him luck. Jim paid no attention this time, dragged forward by the leash, woven from need and guilt. Two words were chanted by a fleshless voice in his mind, as rhythmically as Julian's snapping: praise him, praise him, praise him, _praisehimpraisehimpleasehimpraise_...

***

This room was filled with light, the blinding waterfall poured between heavy curtains. The contrast between darkness in the hallway and this illumination, however pale made Jim’s eyes water. Through the shimmering liquid that blurred his vision he could see Oswald sitting cross-legged in the big chair, the window right behind him. He bowed his head to look at Jim, a gesture Jim had hardly seen before because of their height difference. Reflectively Jim shortened his arms to get lower to the floor and crawled towards the chair.

Oswald waited for him to stop, chin on his hand. He kept silent, so the only sounds were Jim’s breathing, rustling of his clothes and the metallic clanking of the ring on his collar swinging to his every move. As he came close, he felt Oswald’s smell, which now had also the venomous notes of medicines and thin air's electricity just before the storm. Except that, Oswald looked like his old self. He wore a new classy suit and dress shoes, the black and white ones he had on him, when Barnes dragged him to GCPD to announce his success. The shoes, dirty then, shining with lacquer and smelling of expensive leather now.

“Won’t you even look at me?” Oswald broke the silence suddenly. Jim blinked away the tears and glanced up. Oswald was smiling - if one could interpret the nervous trembling in the corners of his mouth in that way. His teeth were bared. 

“Jim”, he said and poked lightly at his cheek. His finger felt cold against Jim’s burning skin. Jim considered, how to react to it and decided to sit still for a while. Oswald poked him harder, then dug his nail into his flesh, leaving a tiny scratch. Jim grimaced a little, but didn’t let out a single sound. 

Oswald moved his hand lower, took him by the ring in the collar and ran his fingers across its shining surface. He tugged at it lightly and looked at Jim questioningly. He half-closed his eyes and lowered his chin. Oswald giggled pleasantly and picked at the ring. 

“I see that Julian worked really well”, said he. “If we can make Jim Gordon to submit, we can make it with anyone.” 

Jim wanted to say that no-one made him to submit. That he was glad to do something that would chase away the guilt. That he hoped to find a new way to live, since the old one proved itself utterly wrong. That he wished Oswald to forgive him, so he could rebuild himself and go on. 

“You want to say something?” asked Oswald. Jim moved his lips, thinking desperately how to voice everything that was on his mind right now, but Oswald waved a hand at him. “Keep it, I don’t want you to talk, you’ve already done too much talking. Put your mouth to other use. The choice is up to you.” 

Jim was confused for a moment, because he wasn’t allowed to choose before and he didn’t know, what would be right. The chant revived itself, tingling between his temples like a string: _praisehimpraisehimpleasehimpraisehim_. He’d been so bad to Oswald before that now he must compensate it. It was fair. He would remake everything from the very start, from the very deep of the time-well, he would make out his forgiveness from the most miserable and humble things he could imagine, from the lowest level. Lowest… Jim looked at the shoes Oswald wore, when he was hiding on the streets, alone and scared. Could he clean them from this like someone cleaned them from ordinary dirt? 

Jim reached out for the shoe, cupped it with his hands and lowered himself to touch it with his lips. Oswald leaned back in the chair, placed his hands on its armrests and watched Jim greedily. At first he just pressed his dry lips to the shoe, then started to cover it with proper kisses, wet and loud. When it seemed that it wasn’t enough, Jim touched the shoe with the tip of his tongue, tasting the rough texture and something metallic as if Oswald walked through the pool of blood. 

He grabbed the shoe by its heel to keep it in place and began to lick it more thoroughly, leaving wet traces of foaming saliva, which he wiped away with his lips and nose. Oswald laughed heartily and shifted his position to let Jim work on the other shoe. Jim got used to the taste and treated it more expertly, then took the tip of the shoe between his lips and sucked on it as eagerly as if it was a hot living flesh instead of a hard object. 

Oswald gestured at him lazily to go on. Jim caught one thin shoelace between his teeth and pulled at it. Oswald reached out himself and began to roll up his trouser leg, while Jim was taking off his shoe carefully. Their hands touched occasionally and that made Jim’s stomach contract. A sudden arousal stirred deeply in his guts, unexpected and embarrassing, heating up with every new touch. Oswald was not disgusted with him that much, he didn’t avoid touching him in general. These touches gave him hope. The kind of hope he’d never given to Oswald himself. 

Oswald wore knee-long socks and sock garters made of black leather, entwined around his thin leg like tiny tentacles. After a few moments of struggle Jim managed to take them off with his teeth, clattering upon tiny metal parts that decorated them. He rolled the sock down Oswald's leg, trying hard not to bite him. Jim's nose touched the smooth skin of his ankle, white and slightly-haired, with blue veins visible under it. When he freed Oswald's right foot from the sock, he had to use his hands to massage life back into each small toe before granting it a special kiss. Jim kissed his way to the big toe and sucked it into his mouth, feeling both soft flesh and hard nail. He rolled his tongue upon the tip of the toe. The delicate taste of salty skin made his mouth water. 

"I feel there's something else you need", said Oswald a little breathlessly. Jim looked up, lips still curved around Oswald's toe, wet sucking noises still escaping his busy mouth. He felt his cock twitching as if at the promise of some stimulation. The wildly irrational thought came to his mind: if he was allowed to more private parts, he deserved to be believed again, their bond was brought back. Oswald saw the expression on his face and chuckled. He put his index finger on his bottom lip. 

"Too early", he said, took his foot out of Jim's mouth and slid it across his face and throat, pausing to play with his collar, moving it up and down so the spikes scratched the skin until it had a dark shade of pink. "And Julian told me about your gag troubles, mind you." 

His hard-on was slowly becoming painful. Jim shifted himself uneasily, waiting for further instructions. The denial hurt, too. Was he really that bad? Was Oswald not impressed at all? The voice echoed and multiplied, filled Jim's ears with hammering of witcher's drums: _praisehimpleasehimpraisehim_. Except, it seemed, he had been no good at it. Jim opened his mouth to speak, to say he was sorry, to promise he would practice more, to ask whether Oswald could let him touch himself and come; he didn't know exactly what he was going to say. He didn't have enough time to decide. Oswald bent himself over chair's armrest and picked his sock from the floor. 

"Keep quiet, I've said", he said nonchalantly and stuffed the sock into Jim's mouth. He choked at its warm rough fabric at first, but managed to catch his breath. Oswald bowed his head to one side and stared at him with amused look on his face. 

"So what you can do now?" he asked. "Try your best and keep your mouth shut on your own in the future to avoid such disadvantages." 

Now he wad gagged and couldn't do properly even that amount of things he learned to prove he was worth Oswald's mercy. He was denied again, now even his very task was denied, his very first step to forgiveness. The shame felt like a fist hitting him under the ribs. His body reacted at the feeling in a way it never did before. 

Jim felt his groin tightening and his cock exploded with semen, soiling his underwear and pants with hot sticky liquid. He moaned through the thick wet fabric, filling his mouth and clung go the chair to keep himself from falling. Oswald covered his mouth with his palm and laughed, genuinely surprised. He patted Jim's sweaty hair protectively, grabbed them and pulled, forcing Jim to look him in the face. 

"Oh, I have to admit that this was impressive", his face was pink with excited blush, eyes opened wide, clear like a crystal, newly washed hair glistening like black silk. Oswald seemed truly pleased. 

The task was fulfilled. The chant died away. He obeyed the order. Orders were everything he ever needed, right? 

Jim smiled mindlessly and saluted Oswald.


End file.
